|Nikolaos Ramsay (themanticore) wrote in cirque_rp,|
@ 2017-08-15 22:27:00
Dawn had started to pale the horizon over the spires of Angkor Wat before Nik made it back to the trailer. After the extent of the injuries the crew had sustained in Ostia, there was plenty of work to be had for the willing.
On the couch, Lucia’s sleeping form was barely visible. She was little more than a slim rise beneath her quilts, depth added to the shadows by the faint light from window overhead. Even though he’d just returned from a week long furlough to his family’s homeland, the sound of her shallow breathing was enough to make him feel that he’d come home. To think that might have been lost to him because he’d left her behind. Without protection. In hindsight, what had seemed a safe call had been monumentally foolish. Mindful not to wake her, he tucked her quilt in at her shoulders, then toed off his boots and dropped onto the bed for an hour of shut eye.
By the time the light in the trailer had saturated everything in gold, Nik had long been at work in the kitchen. He’d never been able to sleep long past daybreak by force of habit. Besides, he was anxious to hear about her week (excepting the obvious tragedy) and her shift. A controlled shift was something to be celebrated for someone still newly bitten. In fresh clothes and working a towel through his wet hair, he kept the coffee making as quiet as the ornate Italian press in their kitchen would allow.
He heard stirring from the couch.
“It’s alive.” A curl of steam floating above its lip, he set a mug on the coffee table within her reach. “Morning,” he smiled, seating himself on the edge of the couch by her feet.